


Teacher's Pet

by Leif Writes (FrankensteinsMomster)



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Imbalance, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankensteinsMomster/pseuds/Leif%20Writes
Summary: "Professor? You sent for me?" Malcolm stood at the doorway, biting his lip and fidgeting with a stray string on the corner of his uniform. The last traces of the sun shone through a tall window and a fire was lit to stave off the last of the winter’s chill. The school was old, parts of it forfeiting modernization for a more authentic feel."Yes, Malcolm! Please, come in. Sit and feel free to hang your coat up. It's after hours, there's no need to be so formal." He smiled brightly, gesturing to the well-worn leather armchair opposite his desk. He shrugged off his coat and added it next to the professor's and closed the door behind him.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Alan Delaney
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	Teacher's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here for my usual stuff this is Not it. However, if you're here for some smut of an inherently uneven power dynamic you're in the right place!

"Professor? You sent for me?" Malcolm stood at the doorway, biting his lip and fidgeting with a stray string on the corner of his uniform. The last traces of the sun shone through a tall window and a fire was lit to stave off the last of the winter’s chill. The school was old, parts of it forfeiting modernization for a more authentic feel.

"Yes, Malcolm! Please, come in. Sit and feel free to hang your coat up. It's after hours, there's no need to be so formal." He smiled brightly, gesturing to the well-worn leather armchair opposite his desk. He shrugged off his coat and added it next to the professor's and closed the door behind him. 

"Could you lock that behind you, please? I just don't want anyone stumbling in when I'm finally getting a chance to spend some quality time with my favorite student." Heat rose in Malcolm's face and he hoped Professor Delaney would be kind enough to ignore it. 

"I apologize, I've been so busy with my extracurriculars. I haven't had much time to stay after class for our usual discussions." He took a seat, the smell of leather and whiskey tickling his nose. He wondered if the older man had been drinking before he came in. 

"The year is going by quickly, halfway finished already. Have you sent your college applications out yet?" 

"I have! I've sent a few but I’m hoping Harvard of course."

"They'd be fools not to accept you. I can only imagine how proud your parents are."

Malcolm frowned at the mention of his parents before correcting himself. 

"Yes, sir. They are."

There was silence and Malcolm shifted in his seat. Mentions of his family always made him that way. He had done his best to leave it all behind the second he stepped on campus and anytime he was reminded of life outside it caused cracks in his carefully laid plans. 

"There are a few things I wanted to discuss with you if you have the time." He rolled out from behind his desk over to Malcolm, sitting almost knee to knee.

"Of course," he replied. "I always have time for my favorite professor." The man was his favorite professor by a longshot. Although it wasn’t exactly a hard record to beat.

A serious look crossed the man's face. 

"The thing is, you're different Malcolm."

His heart sank. If Professor Delaney knew who he was, what he was, it was all over. 

"Hey," the older man reached out, grasping his shoulder and squeezing, "different isn't a bad thing. You're smart, a prodigy even. Your intuitive skills and depth of knowledge are breathtaking."

He sighed in relief. The professor's fingers rubbed idly at his neck and he smiled up at him. Safe for another day. He leaned into the man's touch slightly. 

"Ah, there's that smile! With a little more confidence you could be a real heart breaker." 

Malcolm rolled his eyes, laughing. "You sound like my mother, why is everyone so concerned about my romantic prospects?"

"I'm serious, you're an attractive young man. Any girl, or boy for that matter, would be lucky to have you. You have a grace about you that most will never gain, no matter how rich they are."

Malcolm preened at the compliments. A light bubbling of joy grew in his chest. He tried not to be prideful but he knew he was attractive. Knowing it and hearing it from a man he so greatly respected were two different things though. 

"Which brings me to the topic I wanted to discuss with you. I don't know what your life has been like outside of this school Malcolm but I have the feeling it hasn't been kind to you. I'd like to change that. I would like to help you if you'd let me. To offer some well-deserved respite" 

"How?" 

The room was silent except for the crackling of the fireplace. The mood had shifted in the air. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were sitting. How the hand in his hair had been there far longer than a casually friendly amount of time. 

"I think you know how Malcolm. As I said, you're an intuitive young man. I might not be as gifted as you are in that department but I have my own skills to offer. Experience. Also, I've read your writing." He paused and Malcolm swallowed hard. The older man's fingers playfully ran through the short hairs on his neck. 

"All year I've read your work. Your stories and poetry. A good deal of it has to do with a yearning of some sort but in the last few weeks, it's become more specific. More lustful." He chuckled, "I guess that's to be expected from a teenage boy. Tell me, Malcolm, would I be wrong in the assessment that some of what you've written has been about me?"

His heart pounded in his chest. This had to be a dream. An elaborate and very realistic dream. His mouth went dry. 

"I- yes. Yes, sir." He removed his hand from Malcolm's neck. 

"Thank you for being honest with me. I know that can't have been easy. The things you've written," he paused, smiling to himself, "well if it were anyone else I would have reported it to the headmaster."

"Thank you, sir." He took a deep breath in, not believing what he was about to admit out loud. "I've seen the way you look at me. Noticed the lingering touches. I had to take a chance."

The professor laughed. 

"I could still be fired for this. For all things I'd like to do with you." He leaned in close and Malcolm held his breath. "But tonight is about taking a chance, isn't it?"

The professor pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and like a switch flipping, desire burned deep inside of him. 

"Have you ever heard of the traffic light system, concerning consent?" The older man stood from his chair and circled Malcolm. 

"I- uh-" he blinked, trying to shake his ability to speak back into his lust-filled mind. "I don't believe so but I can take a guess. Green is good, keep going. Yellow is uncomfortable. Red is stop?" 

"Good. Personally, I use yellow as an indicator to stop and check in on my partner before continuing with the necessary adjustments but you have the general idea." 

The warmth of the professor's hands pressed into his shoulders, kneading them. He nearly jumped at the contact. 

"Where would you say you're at right now?" His breath was hot on his ear and goosebumps broke out across his skin. He closed his eyes, praying to whatever God was listening that this wasn't a dream. 

"Green. Definitely green." 

"Good." 

His mind was going in a thousand different directions. This couldn't be happening. He had spent many lonely nights in his bed painfully hard, silently working himself over with only his imagination and out of context moments to aid him. Even if this led to nothing more he would still cherish the memory of his professor's hands on him. 

"Please don't be embarrassed but I have to ask, do you have any experience with any of this?" 

He wasn't sure how he could blush even harder but he did. He hesitated before speaking. 

"I had a friend. Vijay. We experimented some. A lot actually. " 

"Ah, I heard rumors that you were, well, experienced but I didn't want to assume."

"Rumors?" He looked up to the face above him. 

“There’s no need to worry yourself about those now.” He smiled down at him and leaned down to kiss Malcolm again. The rough stubble on his cheeks sent shivers through his body. 

"So responsive," he praised. He continued a trail of wet kisses down his neck, gently nipping here and there. Malcolm wrapped his arms around the man's neck tightly, like he'd disappear if he let go for a moment. 

"It's okay, I've got you. I'm not going anywhere. Stand up.” 

Malcolm stood on command, he realized he would do most of anything on command at the moment. Anything to make sure their moment together wouldn’t end. 

“Would you kindly remove your slacks? I don’t think we’ll be needing them for much longer.”

He moved to release his belt but his hands were too shaky, his entire body felt shaky, a mix of nerves and excitement. 

“Here, I can help you with that.” The professor took a seat in the leather chair and pulled Malcolm at the waist to stand in front of him. He unbuckled his belt and slid Malcolm’s slacks down before folding them and setting them to the side. He ran a hand over Malcolm’s still clothed cock, chuckling at the moan that escaped him. 

“Shhhh, don’t forget we’re not alone in these hallways. Well, we might be the only ones in this part of the school at this hour but it’s still better to be on the safer side.” 

“Sorry Professor.” He bit his lip and took a few slightly ragged breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

“Malcolm, look at me.”

He opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them in the first place, and nearly moaned again. The older man’s eyes were locked on him with a singular purpose. He pulled Malcolm’s briefs down, palming him before lazily working him up and down. It felt unreal, electric. 

"Fuck." He whispered, "fuck, Professor Delaney you don't know," he stifled a groan, "you don't know how bad I wanted this." 

"Language, Malcolm, " he tutted. 

He laughed at the absurdity of it all. 

"Sorry, professor."

The phone rang and Malcolm jumped, scrambling to cover himself. The professor pressed a silencing finger to his lips and gently squeezed his cock before answering the phone. 

"Professor Delaney's office? Ah yes, headmaster. No, no, not at all." 

Malcolm bit his lip to suppress a moan as the Professor used his thumb to rub the pooling precum onto the head of his cock before continuing to stroke him. 

The older man chuckled. "No headmaster, just remembering something I read earlier, please continue." He held the phone between his ear and shoulder and brushed the hair out of Malcolm’s eyes, stroking his cheek lightly. A trailing finger led down to the top buttons of Malcolm’s shirt and he stopped. 

"Green," Malcolm whispered. 

He nodded, releasing his grip on him to use both hands and making quick work of undoing all the buttons, tugging on the sleeves for Malcolm to pull them off. His hands were warm running across his arms, and chest taking a moment to give special attention to his nipples. He licked the palm of his hand before returning to his slow working of Malcolm’s cock. 

He could vaguely hear the Headmaster’s voice on the other end of the call and the excitement of being caught raced through him. He slumped forward, his hands gripping at the man’s shoulders for support. His hips jerked forward in a frail attempt to fuck into his professor’s hand. Anything to save him from the agonizingly slow pace that he’d set. He knew he couldn’t last much longer. He was going to come already, embarrassingly quick but he didn’t have it in him to care.

“Would you like to come now?” 

He hadn’t heard him hang up the phone and the shock of the possibility of being heard nearly sent him to the edge. 

“Please, please sir. Please make me come.”

He removed his hand and swallowed Malcolm’s aching cock in a swift, practiced movement. In seconds he was thrusting into the professor’s mouth, the world went quiet for a moment and he quickly covered his mouth, not being able to control the sounds that he made. 

He shuddered as the Professor swallowed his spent. He felt weak, wobbly. The professor pulled him into his lap, holding him in his arms. He nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck; it was a heady feeling to be allowed this intimacy. The smell of sweat and desire radiated from them both. 

A hand cradled Malcolm’s head, scratching gently at his scalp. He could fall asleep like this. Satisfied, safe. The thick bulge pressed against him said otherwise. 

He kissed at his professor's neck shyly considering what had just happened and being completely naked in his arms. It still felt so new, so alien to touch him, to taste him like he wanted to. 

He shifted, straddling the man's thighs again, teasingly grinding his ass against his erection. The professor smiled softly at him. 

"Ah, to be young. You'll be hard and ready to go again in a few minutes won't you?" 

"It's only because of the remarkable inspiration I have." 

The professor laughed out loud. "Inspiration? Mr.Bright, I'm just a dirty old man given in to his desires." 

"You're not old. You're distinguished," he ran his hand through his graying hair. "And you're a liar if you say that I'm the only one of your students that's noticed." 

"Perceptive as always." He took Malcolm’s face in his hand, stroking his cheek. Malcolm felt seen in a way he hadn’t experienced before, it was almost unbearable. 

He nuzzled into the hand stroking his face before taking the professor's thumb in his mouth. He watched as the man's eyes went wide as he gently sucked. He reached down between the professor's legs 

"Professor Delaney, please, can I taste you?" 

The professor closed his eyes, a wide smile on his face. 

"Of course, anything for my favorite student." 

He dropped to his knees and made quick work of unbuckling his slacks, eagerly reaching in to pull his cock out. There was no hesitation in his movements this time. He had dreamed of this for so long, since the moment he laid eyes on than as he stepped into the classroom. He daydreamed about it, hiding under his desk and sucking him off while he taught a lesson, making up for a missed lesson with his mouth and hands. 

He licked gently at his glans before taking just the head of his cock into his mouth, savoring the smooth texture against his tongue. With each Bob of his head, he inched down, setting a steady rhythm to his sucking. A hand made its way into his hair and he moaned onto the professor's cock when he felt the gentle tugging at his hair. 

His mouth reached the base of his cock and he swallowed willing himself not to gag. He wanted this to be perfect. He wanted to be good to him, for him. He wanted his favorite professor to know how much he was appreciated. He looked up to see the face of adoration and pleasure watching him. 

He reminded himself to breathe, to hollow his cheeks. It was nothing like it had been before during his experimentation. This was a man, fully grown, aged to perfection. He was thicker, longer than what he had practiced with. 

"As much as I'm enjoying this," he tugged at Malcolm’s hair until he pulled off with a satisfying pop, "I don’t want our evening to end quite yet.” He pulled Malcolm back up and onto his lap. He pouted, he hadn't wanted to stop, not now. Not ever. 

He was keenly aware of their contrast. He was completely naked, the professor with his slacks unzipped, slightly pulled down. He was young, only the barest amount of experience while the man in front of him older, graying at his temples held all the experience and power. He felt a warmth in his chest that his professor would trust him enough to share this moment. That he cared for him and chose to shower him with the affection he had secretly and desperately hoped for. 

He kneaded at Malcolm’s ass and pulled his body closer to him, taking a nipple in his mouth. Malcolm stifled a moan and shivered as it sent another jolt of pleasure down his body. The professor's hands were soft but strong. The hands of an academic. A lone finger ran down his crack and rubbed against his tight hole. He froze. 

"Yellow." He started to pull away but the professor stopped him, holding him tight by the hips. 

"Shhh, it's okay Malcolm. I won't hurt you. I won't go inside. Not without any lubrication. You trust me, right?" He moved his finger back to Malcolm’s hole, rubbing with gentle pressure. 

"I do. I trust you." The tension in his body eased but it still took the man's other hand finally returning to his already hardening cock to make him relax again. 

"You look beautiful like this. A work of art falling apart at my fingers." 

"Thank you, sir" his eyes were squeezed closed. He never wanted to forget this feeling. Of putting himself so completely into someone else’s hands. 

"Can you reach my jacket? The inside pocket has a bottle." 

A pang of worry crossed his mind for a moment but was lost when the older man squeezed at his cock again. 

"Do you have condoms?" 

"You're safe with me Malcolm, there's no need." He pulled him down into a kiss, his tongue sweeping across his palate. Malcolm felt guilty for asking, of course he trusted his professor. 

He climbed off of him, rustling through spare bits of paper and pens until he found the bottle and gave it to the professor. He climbed back onto him, shaking slightly. 

"Color?" 

Malcolm looked him in the eye solidly. He wanted this. He needed him to know he wasn't being taken advantage of. 

"Green."

The finger, now properly lubed, pressed into him, slowly sliding past the tight ring of muscle. He bit his lip and sighed. 

"Please, more sir." 

"Patience." 

His cock twitched between them as the professor inched deeper into him. He tried to concentrate on his breathing, to relax his body. Another finger was added, and a third soon followed. 

His thighs shook every time the professor's fingers pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves. He stretched his fingers and Malcolm fell forward, clutching onto him, gasping for breath. 

"I want you bent over my desk." 

Malcolm bit his hand, it was almost too much just hearing the words. The fingers were pulled out of him and he was being moved, pressed stomach down against the hardwood and papers. 

"Spread your legs for me." 

He complied eagerly. He could hear the bottle of lube being opened again followed by a squelch of the bottle. After a moment he felt it dripping down the cleft of his ass, he spread his legs further to ease its journey down. 

"When you're ready, press back into me." 

He could feel the heavy cock rubbing against his hole, ready and waiting. It was bigger than the fingers that had only just opened him up. He pushed back. 

It was the sweetest most agonizing torture. He knew once he made it past the head it would be easier. He moaned as he pressed past it and shuddered at how stretched he felt already. 

"So tight for me. Take your time Bright, there's no rush." 

There was no rush but he wanted more, wanted it all. He pressed back into him and moaned, incoherent words tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Open your mouth,” the professor directed him. He turned his head and opened his mouth only to have the professor’s silk tie stuffed into it.

“As much as I love those glorious sounds you're making, we have to be quiet. Do you understand?”

Malcolm nodded. He pushed back until he felt the professor’s tight sac pressed against him. 

“You’re doing so well Malcolm. I’m so proud of you.”

Tears welled in his eyes, the praise and adoration were too much, it overwhelmed him. He felt the older man lean down onto him, his warm breath on his neck. 

“I’m going to fuck you now.”

His body jolted as the professor pulled out and quickly pushed back into him. Gone was the slow, soft playfulness he’d experienced early. He slammed his cock into him over, and over, and over and Malcolm took it, drooling into the fine silk stuffed in his mouth. 

He felt like he was floating, his body tingling with pleasure and pain. When the professor scooted him up on his knees, angling him at a different level to get deeper, he cried out.

“Is that how you like it, Malcolm? You look so good spread out for me. So soft, so willing.” He grunted with every thrust of his cock. 

His body shook and his cock leaked on to the professor's desk below him, he hoped none of the papers were important. 

As if the man could hear his thoughts, he reached around and worked his cock roughly. 

"Will you come for me again? Can you do that for me, Malcolm?" 

He replied with his body, again thrusting into the professor’s hand and gasping for breath. The professor pulled at his hair, craning his neck as he slammed into him. 

Malcolm came with a shudder, his body beyond overstimulated, slumping down onto the desk as the professor continued. Pleasure teetered into pain as his poor bruised prostate was worked over and over. Professor Delaney groaned into his neck, shaking as he filled the boy with his come.

The room was quiet again, nothing but their labored breaths and the crackling of wood. The sun had well and fully set now leaving them in relative darkness. 

The older man groaned as he pulled out of him, quickly tucking himself back into his slacks and fixing his shirt. Malcolm lay crumpled on the desk, too exhausted to move. 

The crinkling of a bag and a wet wipe on his over sensitive hole made him jump, bringing his wandering thoughts back to earth. 

"There, nice and cleaned," he patted his ass fondly, "let's get you dressed now." 

He didn't want to move. He wanted to lay there, or better yet, lay in his arms again. He wanted to breathe his scent and enjoy the slow coming down from the exertion. But this wasn't the time or the place for that and it caused a hollow ache in his heart that he fought to push down. 

Dressed, he quickly pocketed the professor's tie. A momento, a memory he never wanted to forget. 

"Let me walk you to your room. We wouldn't want you getting in trouble for breaking curfew, would we?" 

They walked in relative silence, neither feeling the need to fill it with insignificant chatter. The professor put an arm around Malcolm’s shoulders, nothing more than a friendly gesture to any prying eyes. 

He felt happier than he had been in a long time. Calm with the fluttering excitement of whatever this was. He knew it wouldn't last but he was determined to enjoy it while it did. 

They reached his room and he turned to his professor. There would be no kiss goodbye. Nothing to mark the end of the evening. 

"I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to come over to my house some time over the weekend. I'm sure your mother would approve of you getting some help with your oration skills, specifically learning to project yourself." He raised a brow and Malcolm got the hint. 

_Oration. Projection. Getting to be as loud as he wanted to. _He shivered.__

__"I think that could be arranged. Thank you sir, I don't think you know how much this extra help means to me." He smiled and left him at his door._ _

__He stripped off his clothes and fell straight into his bed. He knew he needed a shower but already his eyes felt heavy. For now he'd allow himself to sleep, to dream, to let his body recover and prepare for the next time his favorite professor would send for him._ _


End file.
